


5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

by ArgentGale



Series: Alien Relations 101 [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Imperial Ball, Thrawn is watching you, and he is jealous, anon prompt fill, but he won't come out and say that will he, he is a man of action, oh so jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentGale/pseuds/ArgentGale
Summary: Prompt fill5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”Thrawn x Reader for Anon





	

 

Filled from this:

[Send me a pairing and number and I'll write you a drabble](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/post/157799041750/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you)

 

You take another sip of your drink, stomach fluttering with excitement. This is your first Imperial Ball and by the stars you will keep your cool and not act like some silly simpering cadet.  The gown you have chosen is simple, certainly not flashy, but very elegant, and it is a deep blue in color which brings out your eyes.  It cost way too many credits but then again, one’s first Imperial Ball only happens…well…once.

You had arrived alone, well not exactly alone, your friend accompanied you but she has already been spirited away by some lieutenant whose name currently escapes you. Who were you to deny her a night of fun on the dancefloor just because you couldn’t snag yourself a date for the evening?  As she shot you an apologetic look you merely smiled and shooed her off.

Leaving you, for the moment anyway, sans companionship.

You glide about the ball room, soaking in the atmosphere. Everyone who is anybody is here.  Even, you note with a slight smile, Governor Tarkin.  The usually severe looking man managed to look rather dashing in his formal dress uniform.  Tarkin appears to be engaged in deep conversation, his arm protectively about the waist of an elegant looking woman who is a vision of elegance in a blood red gown.  You note a pendant formed in the shape of the Imperial crest from fire gems glitters at the hollow of her throat. 

Ah…to be the lover of a high ranking officer.  Power, prestige, and pretty gems.

The Governor laughs (stars, the man actually laughs?) and then from the corner of your eye you catch a flicker of movement, a blur of white and you see…him.  It was none other than the Grand Admiral himself. The whole ballroom seems to hush for a heartbeat.  You have heard that he _never_ attended these events. Rumor was he would rather spend time meditating or researching and that such foolish human pursuits were, well, beneath him.

The Grand Admiral nods respectfully to Tarkin and then bends to graciously kiss Tarkin’s companion’s hand. As he does so, you find yourself biting your lip and your heart gives a kick. What if he did that to _you_?

Not that he would have any reason to.  Oh certainly in your day to day duties you had dealt with him on the bridge. Did your required duties.  Did what he ordered you to do and the extent of your rather limited conversations were always mission related.  You are certain that he does not know you even exist.  Just another nameless cog in the Imperial machine.

No sense standing here gawking. There is an intriguing dessert cart awaiting discovery.  As you come abreast of Tarkin, Thrawn and their little passel you feel your flesh tingle.  With a start you glance over and notice Thrawn is gazing directly at you.

No. No surely not.

Just in case you offer a weak smile.

You do not wait to see if it is returned but you swear you feel his gaze as you retreat through the milling throng.

You shake your head, shrug off the sensation of those red eyes marking your movement, and take in your surroundings once more soaking up, and enjoying, the experience.

Making your way along outer fringes of the ballroom, where it is darker and a bit more private, you pass more than one couple in a compromising position, politely averting your eyes as you make your way past.

You can’t suppress a slight smile. Seems all bets are off this evening and rank holds no bearing.  

Finding nothing that catches your fancy at the desert table you snag another glass of Corellean red from a nearby serving droid and make your way to the very rear of the ballroom. There you find a makeshift art gallery of sorts where exquisite paintings, a tapestry, and a few sculptures are on display.

From behind you a voice murmurs, “That tapestry looks like a bantha blanket.”  You can’t help but laugh and turn to see a handsome young officer standing behind you. “And that there,” smiling he points to an odd cup-shaped sculpture painted an atrocious green, “looks like a glorified caf maker.” His deep brown eyes gleam mischievously.  He is very young and rather handsome.

“Really now? You are quite the critic.”  The wine is getting to your head and you feel bold. “And you are?” The officer bows with dramatic formality, “Lieutenant Rhua at your service.”  He rises from his silly little bow and his brow knits in mock distress. “I beg your pardon for asking this but how is it such an exquisite beauty such as yourself is at this ball unescorted?”

You arch a brow. “How do you know my companion is not off fetching me another drink?”

Rhua offers a smile.  “First off I see your wine glass is rather full and second, well to be honest, I have been watching you since you arrived.”

You nod and laugh.   Then all at once the lieutenant’s face blanches.  You are just about ready to ask what is wrong when a smooth, clipped voice unfurls behind you.

“That tapestry over one thousand years old and that sculpture you so astutely noted would serve as a…caf maker… is far older, rumored to predate the Old Republic.”

You do not need to turn to know who that voice belonged to.

Thrawn.

“I strongly suggest you show respect for such,” Thrawn’s gaze falls upon you, “exquisite pieces.”

Your stomach tingles.

Rhua is visibly rattled, offering a slight bow before stammering, “M…my apologies, Sir.  I…I didn’t realize. I…yes…she is very exquisite.” With a bow to you he murmurs, “Good evening, miss.”  He scurries off like a scalded loth cat and you are left alone with the Grand Admiral.

Thrawn’s lips curl into a slight, rather self-satisfied smile and it hits you.  He ran the lieutenant off. _On purpose._

You feel oddly giddy and bold as you venture, “Sir, I was capable of handling myself. I was…enjoying the attention.”

Thrawn regards you for a heartbeat and the din of the ballroom seems to fade away. Finally he answers, “My dear he was far too…uncouth for the likes of you.”

Your mind tries to process the fact that one of the most respected, and indeed feared, Imperial officers has just run off some nobody lieutenant over an art display.

No…no it was not over the display. Oh certainly that was a nice cover but, no.

It was YOU he was shooing the lieutenant away from.

Heart thundering in your ears you meet Thrawn’s smoldering gaze and whisper softly, “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”  

You wanted to add, “Over me?” but your voice has petered out. Failed you.

Thrawn straightens his posture a bit, before offering his hand, “My dear, may I have this dance?” You hear that voice just about every single day and yet it raises a delicious thrill up your spine.

You find your manners and give him a slight bow and, as the elegant blue fingers intertwine with yours, murmur, “I would be delighted, Sir.”

**_[send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a drabble](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/post/157799041750/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you) _ **

 

28 February 2017

 

 

  *   * 


  * [#anon ask](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/tagged/anon-ask)
  * [#Thrawn x reader](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/tagged/Thrawn-x-reader)
  * [#my fic](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)
  * [#fic prompt](http://argent-gale.tumblr.com/tagged/fic-prompt)




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